Archive of Our Own

Will knew from the very beginning why Vecna chose him.

He knew why out of the many many children who lived in Hawkins, he chose Will.

It was because he was weak. Sensitive. Different.

He had heard it from his father so many times before— throwing a baseball bat at him, yelling at him to 'grow up and play some sports like a real man'. He knew he was different from other people— he had often been told as well, to toughen up, to stop being such a crybaby, to stop being so fragile.

He knew it as he walked beside Mike, feeling that familiar sick, guilty feeling he got whenever he was around him.

"Hey,"

Will looked up. Mike was looking at him with concern, eyes wide, voice soft.

"You okay?"

"Yeah," Will attempted to smile, his eyes darting. "Just nervous."

"Yeah." Mike looked down. "I think I know what happened in the woods."

Will glanced towards him, tilting his head. "You do?"

He had told him he could've just been jittery before the crawl, but somewhere inside of him, he knew it wasn't just that. He remembered hearing children laughing, the sky spinning, then falling and catching himself on a tree, Mike's solid but gentle hand on his shoulder. His touch still lingered on his shoulder, the feeling sending a thrill up his stomach.

"Yeah. I know you said that it could've just been you being nervous before the crawl, but I have a theory."

Will smiled. He loved it when Mike wanted to explain things. He talked with his hands a lot, and whenever he was explaining D&D logic, or summarising a comic book. It made Will feel like he was the only person in the world, with Mike's attention completely on him.

"Okay so basically, you know how whenever Vecna is near, you get goosebumps on the back of your neck?"

"Yeah,"

"Well maybe its like that, but more? Like, his close proximity could be affecting you. Because he's so close now." Mike looked up at Will through his dark lashes, in a way that made his heart seize.

"That..." Will wet his lips. "That would make sense, yeah."

"Right," Mike breathed, obviously satisfied that he could help.

Will bit back a smile. How would someone not in love with Mike Wheeler act right now? Thank him? He wouldn't know, after feeling it for so long.

The worst thing wasn't that he knew Mike would never love him back. He had already come to terms with that a long, long time ago. It was the remorseful, sick-to-the-stomach feeling he had every time he felt love for Mike. He knew he shouldn't feel this way. Mike was in love with his sister, for pity's sake, and that meant he wasn't allowed to feel anything for him.

He was interrupted by his thoughts by a prickling of gooseflesh down the nape of his neck. It was the  familiar, repulsive feeling, cold and sharp against his warm skin. He took a long, shaky breath, bringing his trembling hand to his neck. He didn't even have time to say Mike's name before he suddenly seized, a loud gasp tearing out. There was a blinding pain behind his eyes, sharp and sudden.

The last thing he heard was Mike screaming his name, grabbing his shoulders.

__________________________________

He couldn't move. There were vines snaking around his body, slimy and dark. He was reminded of the way he was trapped when he was twelve, a slug crawling into his mouth, and the helpless, horrible feeling of not being to stop it. Thinking about it made bile rise in his throat, stomach churning.

And he saw him. Vecna. Looming, walking towards him, footsteps heavy. Vines curled around his body, his eyes milky white and glassy.

Will's breathing quickened, struggling against the vines holding him in place.

"Do you know..." Vecna's voice was monstrous and deep. "Do you know why I chose you, William?"

Yes.

"Let me go, you creep," his voice trembled against his gritted teeth.

"It was because," he tilted his head to the side tauntingly. "It was so easy to convince you you were unloveable."

Will didn't know he was crying until he felt the wetness on his face.

"And that's what you are. Unloveable."

"No," Will gasped, thrashing against the vines. "You're just saying that to make me scared."

"You think I don't know you, William?" he moved closer to Will, until he was right in front of him. "You think I don't know every single night you've lied awake, thinking about Michael Wheeler?"

"No," he pleaded, shaking. "Please. Don't bring him into this."

"Really, I should thank him. For making everything so easy."

Will was gasping for air, feeling tears slide down his face. It made sense that he knew. Of course he knew.

"You know he'll never love you back? You know you'll spend the rest of your life wishing he loved you instead of your sister?"

"I could do things to him, you know." He leaned closer to Will. "I could kill him, and make you watch."

"Please," he whispered. "Please don't do this."

Vecna slowly raised his gnarled hand, bringing them in front of Will's face. His pale white eyes rolled back in his head.

The first thing he felt was the blinding, red hot pain. A scream tore out of him, and he could feel tears— no, blood running down his cheeks.

And he began to see things. Him and Mike, on the swings together, aged six years old. Jonathan handing him his first mixtape. Playing D&D with the party. Going to the arcade. Chatting with El on the walk home from school. Talking with Robin. He felt a sharp pang in his chest.

Was this what dying felt like?

And he began to hear things, too. His friends talking.

"What's wrong with him? What's wrong with him!" Mike's voice.

"I don't know! He's not waking up!" Dustin's voice.

"Will, baby, please, wake up," His mother. Crying.

"Mike. Talk to him." Lucas.

"What?" Mike again.

I'm here, Will tried to say, but nothing would come out.

"Trust me," Lucas pressed.

He could hear Mike swallow, and imagined his Adam's apple bobbing the way it did when he was nervous.

"Will," he whispered, his voice breaking. "Will, please. I need you. We all do."

I'm right here, he tried to scream.

"I- we need you to fight,"

He felt something wet hit his face. Was someone crying on him?

"Fight Vecna," Mike continued. "Please. You're the strongest person I know. Please, Will, I lo— you're my best friend." His voice broke on best friend.

Will smiled through tears, despite himself. He was Mike's best friend.

"Please, Will."

And his voice was so broken, so devastated, so beautiful, Will thought he could feel his heart shatter listening to him.

Will gasped, his eyes flying open.

"Will!" his friends all excitedly grabbed him, pulling him into a hug.

"I- you," He panted, breathing ragged. His vision was blurred by tears, and he hugged his friends back, wheezing.

He pulled back, staring at them. Mike's eyes were wet, his cheeks flushed. Dustin and Lucas just looked stunned, and his mother was crying, hands covering her face.

"Will, honey, what happened? Did you see him? Did you see Vecna?"

"I..." he gasped for air.

"Here. Water." Dustin frantically pushed a bottle of water into his hands, urging him to drink.

Will took a tentative sip of the water, hands shaking as he fumbled the cap back on.

"I did." He bit his lip thoughtfully. "He was telling me some...stuff." He was trying to be vague, hoping they wouldn't press him for details. "Nothing too important. Just mostly threatening stuff."

Joyce's eyes narrowed slightly like she wasn't convinced, but decided to drop it.

"Well, you can rest for as long as you want, okay? You can take Mike with you back to Hopper's cabin, and we'll continue for the rest of the crawl."

Will sucked in a breath. He knew Mike would probably start asking him a million questions the second they were alone.

"Okay," he said softly.

"Mike?" Joyce turned to him, a concerned expression on her face. "Sorry, I didn't ask you first. Would you be willing to take Will to the cabin?"

Mike was already grabbing his things. "Yeah, of course."

Joyce's shoulders sagged with relief. "Okay, thanks so much."

Mike muttered a 'you're welcome'. He turned to Will.

"Will?"

He nodded. "Yeah. Let's go."

"Hey, Will?"

"Yeah?"

"You don't..." Mike looked down, almost shyly. "...you don't have to say anything."

Will stopped. That wasn't what he was expecting. "What?"

Mike shrugged. "You don't have to tell me what you saw back then. I know it was something bad."

Will stared at him.

"You were...talking. You were saying 'no' over and over again. And you were crying, as well."

Oh.

"And..." Mike bit his lower lip. "You said my name. A lot."

"I-sorry—"

"No it's okay, it's okay!" Mike looked startled, like he thought it was the most normal thing ever. Like your best friend saying your name while he was stuck in his worst nightmare was normal. Was a 'friendly' thing. "You don't have to apologise. I was just letting you know."

"Yeah," Will swallowed. "Sorry."

A smile played on Mike's lips. "See, you're doing it again," he teased.

"Doing what?" He already knew.

Mike rolled his eyes, but he was smiling despite himself. "Apologising."

He laughed.

When they got to Hopper's cabin, Mike exhaled.

"I think..." his dark eyebrows knitted together. "There might only be one bed."

Dread curled down Will's spine. "What?"

Mike smiled sheepishly. "The last time I went there, I, uh—" he scratched the back of his neck.

"I spilt milk all over Hopper's bed,"

Will's eyes widened with disbelief. "What?" He laughed.

"Yeah," Mike confirmed, a guilty expression painted on his face. "And I didn't tell him."

"Mike!"

He threw up his arms in a playful protest. "It was just this morning. And I'm pretty sure it smells like rancid milk now," he said with a weak smile.

Will groaned, throwing his head back. "I can't believe you."

Mike shrugged. "I guess we'll just have to stay together, now,"

Will felt slightly nauseous at the thought of sleeping in a bed together with Mike. "Alright."

"It'll be like the sleepovers we had when we were kids."

When Will didn't reply, Mike chewed on the inside of his cheek.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

El's room was neat and colourful, with pictures strung up on walls, and jackets and hoodies hung on chairs.

"Get all the rest you can," Mike said gently. "It's already pretty late," he gestured to the window, where it was pitch black outside.

"Okay." Will pulled off his shoes and jacket, Mike doing the same. They slid into bed together, careful not to touch each other.

They laid in the dark next to each other, the silence electric.

"Mike?" Will whispered softly, already regretting it the second he opened his mouth.

Mike turned his head to look at Will. In the dark, he could still see the way his dark eyes glimmered. "Yeah?" he whispered back.

"Thanks, by the way. For waking me up back then."

"Oh." He couldn't really tell in the gloom, but he thought he saw Mike's cheeks turn rosy. "No problem."

Silence again.

When they were kids, they would never stop talking when they had sleepovers together. Dustin and Lucas would often shush them, telling them to shut up, telling them they were trying to sleep, but most of the time, that just resulted in more hushed giggles from the two.

I guess that isn't happening anymore, Will thought.

It seemed almost like a crime to be sleeping with Mike in El's bed. But then again, it couldn't be helped.

Will didn't know when, but he eventually drifted off to sleep with the thought of Mike still engraved into his mind.

"William."

Cold sweat immediately broke out on his palms. He looked around, trying to spot Vecna's horrible, twisted face.

"What do you want," he whispered, voice trembling.

"You must be enjoying this, aren't you?"

The voice came from everywhere.

"What?"

"Enjoying sleeping with Michael. Your sister's boyfriend. The boy you love so much."

Will took a deep breath.

"Do you feel sick thinking about it? Thinking about how much you love him? How jealous you are of Eleven?"

Yes. "Get out!" Will shouted, voice cracking. "Get out of my mind!"

"You must find it so unfair, hm? That someone like him could never love someone like you?"

"Don't you find it unfair that he'll never love you back?"

He woke with a start, grasping the sheets, breathing hard.

Someone was holding him. Mike. He felt him all over, warm and solid.

"Breathe," he whispered, and Will felt his bottom lip graze his ear. "You're okay. You're okay."

Hands shaking, he hugged Mike back, panting.

"He...told..." Will choked out, tears already streaming down his face.

"Shhh," He could feel Mike's warm breath against his ear. "It's just me."

Mike's arms were around him, his fingertips tracing circles on his back. He could feel his nose against the shell of his ear. He could feel Mike against him.

Mike slowly drew his arm up towards Will's face, gently wiping away his tears with his thumb. "You're alright."

Will's breathing slowed, burying his face into Mike's neck. He didn't care if it was weird, he had no thoughts left.

He was so aware of everything. Mike's fingertips stroking his skin like it was fine cloth. The line of his nose against his ear. The slight press of his lips on his neck that was just...there.

Will was sure that if he wasn't so disoriented from sleep, he would have a stroke just about now.

Because how many times had he dreamed about Mike Wheeler like this when he was a kid?

"What happened?" Mike whispered. "Bad dream?"

"Yeah," he said quietly. "I saw- no, I heard Vecna."

He could feel Mike swallow against his cheek. "Oh."

Mike could easily put two and two together. He wasn't a dumb kid. Being cursed by Vecna, who shows you your worst fears, and screaming Mike's name over and over again. It wasn't hard to work out what was going on.

But he still didn't pull away.

Instead, he hugged him almost even tighter, pressing Will's face against his collarbone, his other hand absentmindedly stroking Will's hair.

Will could smell him- a mix of fabric softener and flowery-scented shampoo. A long time ago, Mike confessed to him he always stole Nancy's shampoo, saying it 'worked better on curly hair'. Will wondered if he still did.

Just to test the waters a bit, Will decided ask Mike a question.

Just to see if this was okay.

"Mike?"

"Mm?" his voice was heavy with sleep.

"Are you falling asleep?"

"Yeah." his long fingertips were laced through his hair.

"Okay," Will whispered against his skin.

But he still didn't pull away.

Will was not falling asleep. Will didn't know how he could sleep with Mike holding him like this. His fingers in his hair, his chin resting at the top of his head. The warmth, and their scents mingling together. Being held by Mike- the sheer feeling of the press of his long fingers against his scalp was far too much.

He was sure that in the morning, they would wake up, flustered, and embarrassed. He was sure that in the morning, Mike would come to his senses and feel disgusted by Will. That he would hate him, that he would tell him he had a girlfriend, and stop being so weird.

But right now, it was nice to just pretend.

The first thing Will felt when he woke up was dread.

Dread that Mike would push him away, avoid him, hate him.

The next thing he felt was Mike's arms still around him.

They still hadn't moved from the position they were in hours ago.

Mike looked so innocent in his sleep- thick, dark lashes against his cheeks, pink lips slightly pouted in a way that reminded Will of his younger self. He looked at him, and thought he was the most beautiful person who ever walked the planet.

Mike woke up too, slowly moving his arms away from Will. He sat up slowly, eyelids heavy.

"Morning," he mumbled, his voice low, still half asleep.

"Morning," Will replied, trying to sound casual.

"You feel better?" Mike's hair was tousled from sleep, looking like an angel with his curls all mussed and unkempt.

"Yeah," he breathed. "A lot better."

Mike's eyes lit up. "That's good."

"I'm gonna go brush my teeth."

Mike nodded. "Same."

Huh.

He studied his face, looking for any signs of disgust.

Looking at Mike was never easy for him. If he looked at him too hard, he was reminded with the horrible feeling of guilt of having fallen in love with his sister's boyfriend. The sick feeling of knowing he couldn't bring himself to fall out of love with Mike.

Will had first known he was in love with Mike when he was maybe thirteen.

Before that, he thought he was just his best friend. He thought wanting to be close with your best friend at all times was the most normal thing ever.

No one had ever called him a queer, no one had ever jeered him for being sensitive.

And it was when he was thirteen when he realised that he might've been falling for Mike, and absolutely not in a best-friends kind of way.

And it was when he was thirteen when he realised that Mike would never love him back.

Because boys like Mike didn't like boys like Will.

He had been reminded of this many, many times. Vecna whispered it to him in the darkest of times—that he was incapable of love. Too broken, too fragile. That he would spend the rest of his life in his sister's shadow.

Sometimes Vecna showed Will images. Images of El and Mike together, happy. Of them at their wedding.

If they ever got married, he would be happy for them. He would be supportive, and cheer them on.

But seeing them together like that, it made his heart seize, his chest tightening from jealousy.

And he hated himself for it.

He hated himself for feeling bitter, for feeling resentful.

When he was younger, he would still entertain himself with fantasies of Mike. Maybe he'll throw a pebble at his window, waking him up. Maybe he'll climb through it, and spend the whole night talking to him. He would even let himself think that some of the gestures Mike made were signs that maybe he felt the same way. A brush of the fingers, a shy glance towards his lips.

But he stopped after a while. After knowing Mike would never like him back, and thinking about it like that would only make it worse.

For Will could never bring himself to fall out of love with Mike.

Falling in love was easy. Every time he glanced over at him—at his soft, dark eyes, at the pretty way his nose curved.

So when Will stared at Mike now, it was like nothing had changed.

Throughout the years he had known Mike, his features changed ever so slightly.

His cheekbones sharpened. His shoulders broadened. He lost the slight baby fat he had that some kids liked to tease him about, calling him 'frog face'.

He must've been staring for a little too long, because Mike cocked his head.

"Why do you keep looking at me like that?" he mused, his tone gentle and playful.

Will smiled, dropping his head.

Just to see if you felt disgusted by the entirety of me. "No, it's nothing."

"Must've been because I looked so handsome today, then." he primly ruffled his hair, shoving it in his face.

Will gasped, pushing Mike's head away from his face. He did look quite handsome today. Like everything he couldn't have.

"Mike, ew," he groaned. "Some of your hair went in my mouth!"

He shrugged. "Did it taste nice?"

"Mike, stop!" he exclaimed, though he couldn't quite stop laughing.

Mike's mouth turned up at the edges, obviously proud of himself.

And they fell into the familiar, comfortable rhythm that was Will and Mike. The hours melted away, and soon, it was night, and Will had almost—almost forgotten about this morning's events.

But as soon as he slid into his own bed, he couldn't help but be reminded of the absence of Mike.

Of how he was sleeping just like today, but in Hopper's cabin, Mike's warm arms around him. His thumb against his cheek, wiping away his tears. Whispering to him in the dark. The brush of his lashes against his skin. Feeling way too much and nothing at all.

He tried to push the thought out of his mind. Thinking about it would just hurt him even more later on.

But he couldn't stop replaying the moment. Mike's dark curls. The press of his collarbone. Mike's fingers lacing through his hair.

It was the last thing he thought about before he fell asleep.

"Will?"

"Yeah?"

"I need to tell you something." his lips were slightly parted, his Adam's apple bobbing.

Will's stomach dipped. "Yes?" he said tentatively.

"I...um..." he wet his lips, eyes dropping.

What was happening?

"I..." Mike tilted his head slowly, and brought his mouth to Will's.

Will was so shocked he was sure he was about to have a stroke. But nevertheless, he kissed him back. He didn't understand. What was happening right now? Why did Mike decide to randomly kiss him out of nowhere? And why? Out of pity?

He felt like he was losing his mind.

Mike made a noise in the back of his throat. He burst out laughing, pulling back with a grin.

Will froze.

He stared, lips still half forming a kiss.

Mike was still laughing, his voice sounding wrong and...mean.

"Mike...I don't understand."

Mike snickered, like this was the funniest thing ever. "I can't believe you thought I was serious!"

Will felt like every wall he had built up was collapsing.

"You thought..." and he had to pause, laughing too hard. "You really thought I would kiss you."

"Mike—Mike, what is wrong with you?" Will felt tears threaten to spill.

"You really thought..." Mike's face turned into something else entirely. His dark eyes turned milky white and glassy. Vines snaked over his freckled skin. His voice turned deep and monstrous. "You really thought there was any chance that that boy could ever love you."

Will's eyes flew open, wide and stricken. He jumped out of his seat, scrambling back.

His palms were slick with sweat, breathing ragged. There were fresh tears trailing down his face, and he could almost hear the echo of Mike—no, Vecna's words.

He wished Mike was here. Like yesterday.

Comforting him with his honeyed words. Whispering into his ear, holding him tight.

He felt so greedy, so selfish for wanting that.

He almost laughed at how stupid it was. Waking up from a nightmare about him, just to yearn for him to be near.

Because Will would always want Mike.

Even after his nightmare—where he laughed at him, mocked him, hated him.

But that wasn't Mike. That wasn't the boy he grew up with. That wasn't the boy walking towards him with a hopeful smile, asking if he wanted to be friends.

That wasn't his Mike.

But was Mike ever actually his?

Maybe this was a warning. To stop. To bury his feelings. To stop feeling so much for him, until his heart bled out completely.

For loving Mike Wheeler was never the 'proper' thing to do.

"Will, could you make me a cup of coffee?"

"Sure."

He slid the mug over to Joyce, who smiled at him, her eyes warm. He could tell she was thinking about what happened the other day. If he was alright.

"Hey," Mike said pleasantly, his shoulder brushing his as he walked past.

Will froze. Just a brush of the shoulder made his whole brain short circuit.

"Hey," he muttered back, trying to keep his voice level. He averted his eyes, willing himself not to look at Mike's face.

He looked anyway.

Mike's dark brows were knitted together, looking like a tortured angel. He looked confused, his lips parted slightly, like they were forming a question.

"Did you sleep okay last night?"

No. Not at all. "Yeah, I guess."

Mike didn't push for details. "Me too."

Will sat down, his knuckles white.

He couldn't let Mike get to him. He couldn't.

He could see Mike keep trying to catch his eye across the table, glancing at him every other second.

He felt like the worst person ever, ignoring him like this. Looking away every time he saw Mike's eyes meet his.

But he couldn't let it keep going on like this.

The cycle that would eat away at his very being—loving Mike, having hope that he might feel the same, then have his heart broken and his world fallen apart.

After Joyce left the table, Will got up to leave after her. Mike watched him leave, his dark, hopeful eyes following Will as he went to his room.

Will tried to drown all the events in his life out with his music—a mix of The Cure, David Bowie, and The Smiths.

He was trying to draw in his sketchbook, but everything just reminded him of Mike.

He had drawn Mike so much over the years, he could practically do it in his sleep. His sketchbook was a montage of different angles of his face—some when he was sleeping, some when he was doing some random thing, some from memory.

It's like he couldn't draw anything but him. Eventually, Will gave up trying to sketch the stupid lamp on his nightstand and just drew Mike.

It came to him with ease and familiarity, like an old song. He sketched out the familiar curve of his nose, the freckles like constellations across his face. The dark tufts of hair that covered his eyes slowly, the sharp lines of his cheekbones.

Suddenly, there was a soft knock on his door, and he jumped, quickly closing his sketchbook with a thump and wiping his charcoal-smudged fingers frantically, trying to hide the evidence.

"Come in," he said, but his voice was too high, too wrong.

Mike stepped into his room, his fingers fidgeting in an anxious, erratic rhythm. He looked down, almost shyly.

"What's up?" he mused, trying to seem casual.

Mike slid into the chair next to Will's bed, his eyes never leaving Will's. Something about his gaze unsettled Will. Like he was about to tell him something important.

Important, as in, stop acting so weird towards me. Be normal.

"So..." he started, his throat bobbing as he swallowed nervously. "...have we been...okay, lately?"

Will tried to keep his expression neutral. "Yeah, why?"

"Because I feel like you've been, I don't know, distant. Like this morning, you barely looked at me at all." Mike's eyes widened, as if he was scared what Will was going to say. "But that's totally okay! I-I'd understand if you want space from me or anything. Because of the whole Vecna thing," he added frantically, worrying his bottom lip between his teeth.

No, we're not okay. I had a dream where you kissed me then laughed at my face. I'm avoiding you because I'm scared you'll break my heart.

"No, we're okay," Will said slowly, his face blank. He wanted to pull out his hair. He wanted to tell Mike everything, right from the beginning.

Mike stared at Will anxiously, trying to read his face.

"Will. Stop. Please. Talk to me," he pleaded, suddenly desperate. His eyebrows knitted together, and his eyes looked so heartbroken—so hopeful, it seized his heart.

"I am, Mike," he tried to stop his voice from trembling.

"No, you're not. You're avoiding me. You keep looking down, and—and I just want to understand!" Mike clawed at his own arms, his fingers leaving red marks. "Will, please. Is this because of something I did? Was it because of that night at Hopper's cabin? Please, Will, tell me. Did that make you uncomfortable? Tell me, I'll stop. I'll change. Will, you have to tell me. I can't deal with you avoiding me."

Will froze. Mike looked wrecked, his hands shaking, his pupils dilated and frantic.

Mike wasn't disgusted, or angry. He looked terrified.

Like the idea of losing Will was tearing him apart.

"Mike—" Will started, his fingers coming to his forearms, where there were angry red marks.

"Because I need to know, Will. Please. I don't know what I did wrong, and I've been spiralling all day trying to figure it out. Because I need you. Please, tell me whatever I did. Did I make you uncomfortable? If I di-"

"No." Will couldn't stand it anymore. The words came fast and honest. "No, you didn't. Not at all."

Mike stopped rambling to look at Will, his lips parted slightly.

"...really?" Mike shifted his weight, lacing and unlacing his long fingers. "Then why didn't you look at me at all today?"

Because if I looked at you, I wouldn't be able to stop.

"I..." Will swallowed, his voice shaking. "Vecna. He's been in my head."

Mike's expression changed. He lowered himself, so he could look at Will clearly. 

"He...what?" Mike's voice softened, as he reached to touch Will's arm. "What did he say?"

Will tried to ignore his fingertips on his forearm. "He told me things...things that I already think."

Mike's wide eyed stare encouraged him to go on. "Things like—" he swallowed.

"H-He told me I was weak. That I was broken." Will's hands shook, and he could feel tears threaten to spill out. "That no one would ever love me." That you would never love me.

Mike's jaw tightened. His face was a mix of fear and understanding—what was he thinking right now? His cheeks were rosy pink, his lips red. Will would love to just kiss him right now, to kiss him until the world fell apart and Mike understood.

"That's a load of bull."

Will looked up. "What?"

"That's not true," Mike continued. "Nothing that Vecna told you is true."

Will's breath hitched. "How can you be so sure?" His voice was low and ragged.

"Because-I—" Mike bit his lip, his throat bobbing.

"I love you."

Will might've been drowning.

Everything stopped around him. He stood there, his throat dry, unable to form a coherent sentence. Mike watched his face, his expression filled with terror. He looked so wrecked, like this had been eating away at him for as long as he could remember.

Mike loved him.

Mike Wheeler, the boy he had loved ever since he could remember, had just told him he loved him.

Someone like him would never love someone like you.

"...Will?" Mike looked up at him with hopeful, shiny eyes. "I'm sorry, I wasn't thinking. Forget I said anything."

"No," Will said, his voice barely a whisper. "Mike—you don't love me."

Mike's eyes were wide with confusion. "What?"

Tears might've been streaming down his face, he didn't know. All he could focus on was how broken Mike looked.

"You don't...love me, Mike. You just pity me. You just think I'm sad, and lonely, and Vecna's getting to me. Please, Mike, don't feel obligated to love me."

"No, Will, its true. Everything I've said is true. Please, believe me."

Will shook his head. "No, Mike. You love my sister."

Mike stared at him, his shallow, ragged breathing the only thing in the room.

"Is that it? Do you think I don't love you because of El?"

"Mike, please—"

"Will, I broke up with El!"

He froze.

"You...what?"

"We broke up, Will. Months ago. We agreed it was the best for us." Mike swallowed, hastily wiping away tears. "So its fine, okay? You don't need to feel guilty. Please, Will."

Oh.

"Talk to me," he pleaded.

Will averted his eyes, turning and walking out of the room.

"Will—!" Mike's stomach dropped violently as he chased him down the hallway.

"Will, please, it's raining!" he begged, as Will turned the doorknob and ran outside.

Will didn't even look back. His clothes were soaked with rain in seconds, water trickling down his neck.

Before he could leave, Mike grabbed his arm, firmly but gently.

"Please, Will," It was hard to tell what was rain and what was tears on Mike's anguished face. "Please, just listen to me."

"No, Mike. I'm sick of this. I'm sick of you pitying me, of you treating me like I'm something fragile you have to take care of or something," he snapped, weakly fighting Mike's grip on his arm.

"No, you don't get it. I don't pity you. I don't feel obligated to love you, Will."

"That's not true," his voice shook. "You only like me because I'm always around. Because you can't get rid of me."

"What?"

"If that's not true, then where were you when I was in Lenora? You called maybe three times! In a year."

Mike fell silent, watching Will with a scared expression.

"You never wrote, either. And El had a stack of letters you wrote her. How do you think I felt, watching her open new letters, watching her eyes light up with excitement, then disappointment when she saw the 'from', while I didn't get a single letter?"

"Will—"

"No. Don't tell me to stop. Don't tell me to listen. Don't try to comfort me, Mike. Not when you didn't fight for our friendship when I wasn't around. Don't tell me I'm the one you want when you never wanted me when I wasn't here."

"Will, please."

"No, stop saying that!" Will jabbed him in the chest, shoving him back. "You didn't care when I wasn't around all the time. You only think you love me because you feel guilty. You feel like you have to love me, because you pity me. You think I'm broken, too. Just like Vecna does."

Will's voice was a rough whisper. "I wish you never woke me up back then. I wish Vecna got me."

Mike stood there, frozen. He didn't look disgusted, or upset. His face was of pure, nauseating terror.

"Will, you don't mean that. Say you don't mean that—"

"I do." A raindrop from his lashes fell onto his plump lips. He knew he was being horrible right now. And he hated himself for it. But he couldn't let this go on any longer.

"Will, I don't pity you. I don't walk around with you because I think you're a charity case. I didn't chase after you in the rain because I felt obligated to love you."

Will's voice faltered.

"And I care, Will. I care, so much." Mike grabbed his forearms, forcing him to look him in the eyes. "When you were possessed by Vecna and you wouldn't wake up," he swallowed. "I was losing my mind."

Will stared at him, hands shaking.

"And when you went missing all those years ago—" Mike's voice broke, as he took a sharp breath. "There would've been two bodies in the quarry, if you weren't ever found."

Will didn't know what to say.

"You matter so much to me, Will." Mike stepped closer towards him, until Will could make out every freckle across his face. "More than you'd ever know."

"And I promise you, you're not broken. None of us would be better without you."

Will watched him with wide, hopeful eyes.

For a moment, none of them spoke. The only thing that could be heard was the rain in the background.

"I care, Will," Mike said softly. "None of what you said is true. I care. Maybe a bit too much."

"Because I love you. I loved you when you were in California, I loved you when you had a bowl cut. I've loved you for my entire life. And I still love you."

Will couldn't speak. His throat was raw, and he was frozen, unmoving, in awe.

"Because I like everything about you, Will."

Mike's gaze never left Will's. With shaking fingers, he cupped the side of Will's cheek, tilting his face up gently to look at him. 

"I like the way you talk. The way you dress. The way you stick your tongue out slightly when you draw and you're really concentrating. I love how you look at me and how you used to mumble my name when we were little at our sleepovers. I love every single thing you do and don't do."

Will couldn't move. Couldn't speak. It all felt so surreal—he almost didn't register that this was really happening.

Mike.

Telling him he loved him.

That he's always loved him.

And now, he was stroking the side of his face fervently, looking like he was about to kiss him.

About to kiss him?

Was he?

Mike's eyes were soft, his long, dark lashes framing his eyes.

Will didn't know what to do.

Because Will knew what it felt like to be possessed, have a parasite crawling around inside of him, and have his mind invaded, but not kissed.

He used to imagine what it was like when he was little.

Maybe his partner would smile at him, maybe lace their fingers together, and bring their mouth to his.

He never knew what it felt like.

So when Mike slowly leaned in, his lashes brushing delicately against Will's cheek, he thought he was floating.

"I'll be better, for you, Will," he whispered as his lips met his.

Will's thoughts dissolved into static. His mind went beautifully blank as he felt Mike's soft lips against his.

He instinctively grabbed Mike by the collar gently, kissing him back. He could feel the tears on Mike's face—he could feel Mike.

Never in a million years did he think he would end the day kissing Mike.

Will's heartbeat grew reckless as Mike's long fingers slid up towards his hair, lacing in between his brown hair. He could feel Mike's warm hand against the nape of his neck.

Will thought he was losing his mind.

The kiss unraveled him completely. His 13 year old self would never believe him if he told him that he would be kissing Michael Wheeler in the rain. Even he didn't believe it.

Mike's lips were soft and trembling, his fingers shaking too. His hands moved from his hair to his face to his neck, slim fingers swiping every inch of Will's hot, fevered skin.

Every brush of their lips, every gasp, every smile, drove Will insane. It was all too much, and not enough, and he wanted more, and more, and more.

"Mike," Will whispered, as Mike slid his tongue into his mouth. He was feeling so dizzy from euphoria, getting lost in the taste of him.

Will tugged gently at Mike's dark, rain soaked curls, eliciting a gasp from him. Mike grabbed Will's wrists, and Will opened his eyes slowly to see Mike watching him carefully, his dark eyes heavy lidded. Will saw his own reflection in Mike's large, dilated pupils.

"Is this okay?" he whispered, his hot breath against Will's lips. He looked up at him through his thick row of lashes, and all Will wanted to do was just kiss him again.

"Yeah," Will breathed, feeling lightheaded and giddy with power. "Yeah."

Mike brought his lips to his again, and brought his hands to Will's waist. He tilted his head more, making a low noise in the back of his throat. There was an almost primal, animalistic sense in him that wanted to kiss Will, to have him forever, to never let him go. To keep him right by his side, away from Vecna, from anyone that could hurt him.

And it was true.

Mike loved him.

He was as sure of this as he was sure the sky was blue and the sun was yellow. He felt it in every bone of his body. He loved him. He loved him. He loved him.

Will couldn't breathe. Every tug of his hair, every noise he made, every brush of his fingers was enough to completely drive Will over the edge. He had never thought it could be anything like this. Mike kissed him like a man starved—with a desperate fervour he had never seen before, whispering sweet nothings into his mouth. It was like he was waiting for him. Waiting all this time.

He pulled away at last. Mike looked like a tortured angel, his lips red and wet and a tiny bit swollen, his eyes heavy lidded and dazed. They widened a little looking at him, like he couldn't believe this was happening. His curls were mussed up from the time his fingers had been in his hair. Will's fingers were in his hair.

He kissed him.

He still couldn't quite believe it. Couldn't believe what had happened today. The only thing that he had telling him he hadn't made it all up was the lingering taste of Mike in his mouth.

"Will," he murmured softly, fingers brushing his rosy, flushed cheeks delicately.

Will had always loved the way Mike said his name.

__________________________________

"Will?" Mike whispered.

"Yeah?"

"You know, uh," he smiled sheepishly, looking down. "About Hopper's bed..."

Will tilted his head slightly, eyes narrowing in mock suspicion. "Continue?"

"I, uh, lied." he looked up, beaming at the incredulous look on Will's face.

"What?"

"Yeah," Mike said, scratching the back of his head, smiling like a fool. "I just wanted to find an excuse to be with you."

Will rolled his eyes, despite the blush on his cheeks. "You're crazy."

Mike's eyebrows raised. "Crazy together?" he murmured softly, leaning towards Will to give him a kiss on the nose.

Will laughed, head jerking back away from him. "You are such a dork, Mike Wheeler!"

Mike smiled. He didn't think he could possibly smile any more. "I had a good reason for it, you know. I wanted to know if you were safe or not."

Will still wasn't used to the feeling of Mike loving him back. He didn't think it was possible. He still didn't know if it was real. If he was pretending, like in the nightmare he had.

But when he looked into Mike's eyes, he could see it. It was real.

And he loved him.

He loved him.

He loved him.